Here you will find the Poem Music of poet Anna Akhmatova
Something of heavens ever burns in it, I like to watch its wondrous facets' growth. It speaks with me in fate's non-seldom fits, When others fear to approach close. When the last of friends had looked away From me in grave, it lay to me in silence, And sang as sing a thunderstorm in May, As if all flowers began to talk in gardens.
